


Honour him

by qwertysweetea



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Denial of Feelings, Everything Hurts, F/F, Feelings, Five Years Later, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hannibal Extended Universe, M/M, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 09:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13714809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwertysweetea/pseuds/qwertysweetea
Summary: Gawain had avoided talking of naming the child. He wondered when he would bring it up to Galahad; he had hoped the opportunity would arise before the birth, if not to give Galahad the chance to think things through then to avoid adding to the stress of parenthood. Then the little tyke arrived earlier than expected.For a few moments the room was silent but for the fire, atmospheric and heavy. Galahad instantly preferred it when it was full of noise.“Galahad, you know what I'm suggesting.” Gawain started, voice serious “Honour him; honour what he meant to you."Five years after the battle Galahad's son comes into the world. Gawain knows it's time to dig up some of Galahad's deep-buried feelings.





	Honour him

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because ~~apparently I like to make myself sad.....~~ I re-watched the film after a day with my five-month old Godson and reminded myself that Galahad probably went on to have children.

When Gawain entered the room Galahad was already alone, except he wasn’t. Not anymore. All those who had needed to visit had done, and now Galahad sat in the chair by the fire, screaming bundle of blankets in his arms, soft and slightly dopey smile on his face as he stared into it.

It had almost been a complete day since the birth and he looked no closer to growing weary of the load cries. Give it time, Gawain smiled to himself; Galahad had never had much patience when it came to beings as unreasonable and demanding as himself.

He took the seat opposite the other, eyes focused kindly on Galahad’s fire-glowing skin as he quickly shooed away a wet nurse as she raced in to claim the child off of him in Gawain’s presence.

“Baby’s ain’t got no place in man’s business.” She mumbled on the way out. Galahad paid no notice as the door clicked shut.

Bor’s should have been the next to marry, have another kid. At the time of Arthur’s wedding, it would have been safe to put money on; it was clear he and Vanora belonged to each other as though already bound by law and land.

Gawain swore that he would follow in his brother-knights footsteps when he finally met a woman beautiful enough to be worthy of him. When she finally arrived, she was plainer than Galahad had expected her to be with hands rough from work and a permanently bloated stomach, but he knew that she was the one because Gawain could not keep his eyes off of her. He proposed that night, quiet spectacularly drunk on nerves and the wine he’d taken to push them down. They’d been married a handful of weeks later and he had not yet regretted his decision.

They had no children but they were happy. Galahad was the first of the two to have a child, and he was being sincere when he told Gawain that he would marry his son’s mother, the night he told him and Bor's at a table they frequented occasionally at a local tavern. She hadn’t yet accepted an offer of marriage but then he had not yet asked, he had added. He was sure that she wouldn't accept, he had told them, but he didn't look nearly as convinced as he said it.

‘Too afraid to be in love.’ Bor’s had teased.

There was a smile playing on Galahad's lips. The boy was helplessly in love.

It had never occurred to Galahad that either of them had seen him in love before, and so he laughed along while Gawain was grateful on his behalf that Bor’s was sober enough to hold back the ‘again’ that almost flittered out with the light-hearted jab.

Bor’s and Vanora were still yet to be married, and she may or may not have another child on the way. They weren't sure just yet.

Everything seemed to have fallen into place since their discharge, more or less. It had taken five years but they all seemed happy and reasonably settled.

The fire crackled in front of them, only just audible over the piercing screams.

“Cries a lot, doesn’t he?”

Galahad chuckled. “They assure me that some do. He quiets down when he sees a new face sometimes, but then it’ll start again.”

“Do you have a name for him yet?”

Only then did Galahad’s smile falter, almost a micro-expression before he caught himself again.

Gawain had avoiding bring up naming the child. For the handful of weeks, he knew of the pregnancy before the birth he wondered when he would bring it up to Galahad; he had hoped the opportunity would arise before the birth, if not to give Galahad the chance to think things through then to avoid adding to the stress of parenthood. Then the little tyke arrived earlier than expected.

Now wasn’t ideal, but it might be the last opportunity to say what needed to be said.

“I shan’t name him after a knight,” Galahad replied quickly, too quickly. “We lost so many brothers that it would feel unjust to pick one more deserving than another.”

“You know what I'm suggesting,” Gawain said, and with it he stood, closing the distance between them and took the screaming creature in his arms. He jogged him with equal care his father did but a little rougher, and instantly the screaming became bubbling sobs, and then slowed to nothing. He didn't need to look down at him to know he was Galahad's, no-one else's child would be able to kick up such a fuss about nothing, but when he did there was there was no room for doubt.

Unfortunate, Gawain couldn't help but smile, he was going to have his father's mess of dark curls.

For a few moments the room was silent but for the fire, atmospheric and heavy. Galahad instantly preferred it when it was full of noise.

“Galahad,” Gawain started, voice serious and repeated, “you know what I'm suggesting.”

“And I am choosing not to entertain it.”

“We had to talk about it eventually. Either now or when he is older, and you are regretful. Name him after Tr-”

“No.”

“Galahad…”

“No.” He repeated more firmly, reaffirming “not one of our brothers is more deserving than the others.”

“It’s alright, Galahad." He sighed out, continuing to jog the sleeping child like any falter in the movement would have him waking up. "It’s alright to acknowledge it to me, to yourself. Give yourself this.”

“I have a son now," he insisted, voice thick and face strained with pain "and I love his mother. I would marry her if she would have me.”

“I don’t doubt you, and I will support you as I always have; this doesn’t mean you didn’t-”

“Don’t say it.” Galahad hissed back, cutting him short of the words. “Don't. I cannot..." hear it out loud, he wanted to say. It was one thing knowing about it deep within him, lurking out of sight, waiting to catch him occasionally in his dreams. He had numbed himself to that, but out loud it had the power to tear into him like it had when he was stood at his graveside years before.

He didn't need to say it for Gawain to understand it. “You cannot, even now? You have been so caught up in your own denial, you haven’t given yourself time to grieve.”

“I have grieved him enough.” He replied, the urgency of it making it sound harsher than he meant it to.

“It’s been five years, Galahad.”

“Gawa-”

“Honour him,” he insisted and took a moment to make his voice sound kinder when he added, “honour what he meant to you and what you meant to him.”

Galahad visibly slumped in his seat and yet he couldn’t have looked tenser. The muscles of his jaw pulsed as he ground his teeth together in the effort to keep himself together. His eyes, flicking between the fire and somewhere on the floor between them, had gone from glassy with the tears to almost magnifying.

Still they did not fall, and Gawain resisted the urge to ask him his mind. Whatever he was thinking about he’d clearly been avoiding for a long time.

“I thought for a short while before he was born that I could, but then I held him in my arms and… saying it, I was flooded with sorrow. When I look at him I feel complete, happy. I am scared…” He paused, now looking into the fire like it would make the words easier to say.

“You’re scared that if you remind yourself of him you’ll taint what you feel now, how you will feel about your son.” Gawain completed, and knew instantly that he couldn’t have been more right.

“That every time I look at him, I will see him and break my heart all over again.” His eyes quickly flicked back to the now sleeping bundle in Gawain’s arms. He stood in a brisk, smooth motion and took the child back, holding him against his chest before reclining him in his arms again.

Gawain prepared himself for the screams but the little bundle remained asleep against the heavy rise and fall of his father’s chest.

“And look at you.” Galahad sighed, voice hushed and utterly soaked through with the tears in his throat. “So wonderful. I see him in you already though I cannot speak your name… and of course, it’s your name. Who else deserves it? I only hope that one day you don’t ask me how you came to have it – the God’s be damned, I might be brave enough to admit it by then.”


End file.
